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From top left: sambal, roti canai, kerisik; apom balik, curry mee, Kuih Dadar; laksa lemak,
mangosteens, char kuey teow.
America gets a lot of credit as a melting pot. But it's got nothing on Malaysia.
Walk down a street in Penang and you'll pass an Indian man pulling tissue-thin dough for roti
canai next to Chinese women tossing noodles in pork lard. You can eat dim sum for breakfast
and mutton curry for lunch. You'll dip coriander-turmeric fried chicken in a Worcestershirebased sauce. Out late? Pull out a few ringgit and take your pick of char kuey teow, wide rice
noodles and prawns fired up in a screaming hot wok with chili and soy; or fluffy ghee-coated
naan; or a plastic bag of pickled mango; or a bowl of tom yum; or squid smothered in spicy-tart
sambal.
Chinese, Malay, Indian, Thai; it's how these culinary traditions alternately merge and remain
distinct that makes Malaysian cookery so fascinatingand so hard to summarize concisely, a
Venn diagram of flavor whose every overlapping sliver is its own compelling story.
I recently spent eight days on a culinary tour through Malaysia with four New York chefs, eating
our way through hawker stall after hawker stall, restaurant after home-cooked meal. It was an
aggressively food-focused trip, with cooking classes and market tours and such. But I get the
sense that it'd be hard to visit a Malaysian city and not get a culinary tour. Vendors with woks
and griddles line the streets, day and night; the pop of spattering grease, the hiss of water
meeting heat, clouds of chicken-scented satay smoke, the unmistakable whiff of toasting shrimp
paste, live fires and bright lightsit assaults every sense. Banana trees and pandan might be in
your backyard. Highway rest stops sell fresh sugar cane juice. There's just no ignoring the food
culture.
For our purposes, of course, nothing could be better.
China, India, Portugal, England...
The story of Malaysian food is that of the nation's history, of course; but food itself (namely, the
spice trade) played a major part in that history.
Imagine any aquatic trade route of, say, the 12th century onwardand there's a good chance
Malaysia is smack in the middle of it. Peninsular Malaysia (the modern-day nation straddles two
land masses, peninsula and island) together with Indonesia's islands of Sumatra and Java reach
far south of the Asian continent, such that a sailor trying to navigate the region essentially has to
pass through the narrow strait between them. Chinese merchants trading with India? They'd sail
right through. Middle Eastern traders getting to China? The Spanish sailing to the Philipinnes?
The Japanese and the Javanese? Their paths all intersected in Malaysia, and they all did business
in that peninsula's port cities, including Malacca and Penang.
Food evolving from these three cultures plays a huge role in the Malaysian diet, but further
influence is seen from the Portuguese (particularly in Malacca) and the British (ingredients like
Worcestershire sauce pop up in now-traditional dishes, and afternoon tea is still something of a
custom).
Chili crab at a Portuguese restaurant in Melaka. [Photo: Malaysian Kitchen For the World]
Add in the nearby nations of Thailand and Indonesia and you've got a dizzying array of flavors
and methods and foods coming together in a single population.
Note: It's worth saying, as prompted by this comment thread, that when I refer to Malaysian cuisine, I simply mean
food that is prepared often and eaten widely in Malaysia; I am not suggesting that it originated in that country, or
isn't consumed elsewhere. Indonesia may claim satay and rendang as their own, for example, but they still figure
heavily in Malaysian food culture.
In many cities, no matter the hour of day or night, street hawkers will be selling everything from
wok-tossed noodles to sambal squidand someone will be buying and eating it. The nation has
plenty of restaurants, of course, but a great deal of eating happens on the street, either from
stands that line roads or in clusters of hawker stalls. One doesn't get a sense of strict mealtimes,
of a lunch rush at 12:30 and a dinner at 7; eating seems an all-day activity.
Nor are their strict divisions between breakfast food and supper. Breakfast might be griddled
flatbread roti canai, essentially Indian paratha served with curry; congee, Chinese rice porridge;
or nasi lemak, coconut water-steamed rice with fried anchovies, spicy sambal, and often a curry
to complete. (That's Malaysia for you: distinctly Indian, Chinese, and Malay options for a
morning meal.) All that fish and spice might seem unusual for a Westerner first thing in the
morning. But nasi lemak might be a dinner, too, and roti canai is a mighty satisfying midnight
snack. Divisions that govern some Western cuisines break down a bit. Even sweet and savory
aren't as distinct as we're accustomed to: fruit salads often have the shrimp paste belacan in their
dressing, and spicy-pungent sambal is served even with some desserts.
The Building Blocks
Key supporting players? Chilis, alongside or instead of sambal; kaffir lime leaf and rind; large,
meaty candlenuts; shallots and lemongrass; sweet soybean paste and sweet soy; palm sugar; and
edible roots (turmeric, galangal, ginger), generally used fresh. Many dishes start out with a spice
paste (rempah) formed by pounding roots and chilis and aromatics together, which is then wokfried in a bit of oil; a single whiff of that frying up is enough to get your stomach growling, no
matter what ends up added to it.
From the Sea
And seafood is used fresh, tootossed in sambal, cooked in curries for asam pedas, grilled in
banana leaf for ikan bakar, incorporated into soups like asam laksa. You'll find everything from
squid and prawns to sting ray and eel.
Bananas and Coconut
Banana leaves.
The leaves? Part gentle flavoring agent, part cooking implement, they can snugly hold fish on a
grill, wrap around delicate sweets, or serve as the placemat for an Indian lunch.
Toasted coconut.
Coconut spans every spectrum of savory to sweet, light to heavy; it's got so many uses it's
practically a food group. First, there's the coconut cream and milk, used so commonly they're
more or less a dairy equivalentthey're in crepe-like flatbread batter and soup broths, curries
and desserts, used to steam rice and thicken sauces. There's the grated fruit itself, used often in
desserts, but also toasted for kerisik, used as a thickening agent that also adds a toasty richness to
stews and curries.
Beef rendang, laksa lemak, roti jala, nasi lemakwhether or not they taste like it, all these
classic dishes rely heavily on coconut.
Fruits and Their Uses
If I could smuggle anything back to the States, it'd be a bag of Calamansi limes. Or a box. Or
maybe just a bag of seeds to plant. The grape-sized fruits have a thin, fragrant rind, a beautiful
orange interior, and a complicated, compelling flavor that's simultaneously sweet and acidic and
refreshingly brightlime meets kumquat meets tangerine, say. They're a perfect final squeeze
over grilled fish or laksa or many Nonya-style salads, and (though this is my infatuated
American talking) pretty delicious eaten on their own. (I requested a side plate of Calamansis
more than a few times on this trip.*)
*Usually because they make bad gin taste better.
Durian.
Nasi goreng.
Rice or noodles (or both!) make an appearance at just about every meal. Rice, in particular,
shows up in everything from breakfast to lunch to dessert. In the morning, it might take the form
of congee, or get cooked in coconut milk and topped with peanuts, sambal, and fried anchovies
for nasi lemak; at times it's served plain as a side (accompanying just about every curry), at times
it's the main event (when fried for nasi goreng, say). Noodles are another favorite, whether in
soup (like laksa), stir-fried (char keuy teow), or stewed.
There's More To Say, Of Course...
Malaysia's a big country, and no two corners of it would give you the same eating experience.
Penang, near the Thai border, echos that country's tendency toward tart, spicy flavors; eastern
parts of the peninsula are inclined toward more traditional Malay foods; and of course, the
capital city of Kuala Lumpur has the international scope of any modern metropolis. An overview
of a country's cuisine is only the big picture; within the nation itself, there's endless variation and
diversity.
Why It's Awesome